


Heaven's coins

by drcalvin



Category: A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
Genre: (Grumpy old ghosts technically), 19th Century, Afterlife, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Grumpy Old Men, London, Post-Canon, Redemption, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 02:50:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2796938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drcalvin/pseuds/drcalvin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marley's haunting was all that saved Scrooge from eternal damnation. Years have passed and it is time to repay the favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven's coins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cinaed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/gifts).



> A little Christmas fic for you, Cinaed, with the best wishes of the season!

"You're wearing fewer chains than last time. Suits you, much better than the whole eternally damned ghost of doom."

  
The spirit of one-time London banker Jacob Marley whirled around. Facing him was none other than Ebenezer Scrooge, his old friend from life, his first project of improvement in death. One of the last men Marley had expected to meet. He almost gaped at him like a yokel, only a lingering sense of propriety keeping his shock hidden.   
  
He shook his head as if to jangle the thought loose. Propriety... when had he last considered that? In life or death?  
  
"Why are you here, Scrooge?" Marley asked, his voice feeling dusty and unused. "Why do you appear as bound as I? Did you forget my warnings?" After all they had gone through. Marley felt a flicker of disappointment.  
  
Scrooge shook his head. He was not in his suits, nor in his nightshirt. Instead he wore faded memory of outdoors clothing; worn and motley, they were, as had he been gardening.   
  
Except Scrooge had no garden... or did he? Marley couldn't entirely recall. He did recall enough to know that the two chains crossing his body were not of London fashion, and he scowled at them in displeasure.   
  
"Oh, these little things?" Scrooge lifted a chain, smiling at it as were it made of daisies and birch-leaves, instead of the cold weight of his damnation. "They're mine, although they are not a tenth of the weight they would have been without your influence. But you can't make up for a lifetime of greed in a few short years, although I was told I had done a commendable job."  
  
Marley turned from him then, the familiar gray inertia settling over him, and he went back to his empty contemplation of the London rooftops.

"Marley?"

Why hadn't Scrooge left? He heaved a sigh; words, words, so many words. He thought he had left them all behind a long time ago. "I am sorry for your sake, then. Perhaps you find the weight easy now, but beware! In time, they'll leech all warmth from your unhappy spirit."

"Yes," Scrooge said, "I was warned that I had a finite time to repent."

There was snow on the roofs again. In the street beneath them Marley noticed garlands hanging. Christmas again? So quickly, they came and went, the decorations and the people. They seemed so ant-like, milling about, their small lights so quickly eaten by the dark...  
  
"Hey! Marley!" Scrooge's hand fell heavy on his shoulder, shaking him most rudely. "What is going on with you, man?"  
  
"I am man no more," Marley reminded him, "merely a shade, tired and worn! I am sorry to see you here, old friend, but I have no more advice to give. Go, hurry to your deeds. And leave me alone."  
  
Scrooge forced him around. He had died as badly shaven as he had lived most of his days, though the new wrinkles around his eyes hinted at more smiles and fewer scowls than Marley recalled from life. He saw it now, a smile that was first friendly, before it faded into into worry when Marley kept his silence with the steady patience of the dead.  
  
"You have changed in the years since we met," Scrooge finally said. "I... I am not sorry, that I had the time I had. It was a good life, especially there at the end, and I would've been sad to miss these experiences."  
  
Marley hummed his agreement. Though he had not thought or felt much in the last while, he too would've been sad to welcome Scrooge too early. In the first two – three? –  years, when he had still gone back to visit, the unseen spectre had felt warmed by the thousand little joys that surrounded Scrooge. But the brightness of his life stung Marley as much as it warmed him, making the chill of his own existence seem the colder by contrast. It had, at some point, become easier to merely drift.  
  
"But," Scrooge continued, "I do not mind passing now. Especially not that I have found you." His grip grew firmer around Marley's arm.   
  
"You should. You do realize you're not only dead, but one of the restless damned as well?"  
  
"I'm not feeling very restless - although I do look forward to starting the good work!"   
  
Scrooge's joviality, Marley discovered, was beginning to grate at him a little. He felt no regret to snipe back, hoping to curb the unwelcome cheer: "Oh? And what old friends will you begin to try and pull from damnation, only to have them later turn up, prattling at you about how happy they are that your work failed! And smirking like that too, it is unseemly!"  
  
"Oh, I have missed you." Scrooge laughed, and tugged at the largest remaining length of Marley's chains.   
  
He tried to bat his hand away, causing Scrooge to yank even harder. Marley stumbled, swore, and suddenly they were tussling like boys on the roof, so intent on their battle that they even stirred the snow beneath their ghostly feet.  
  
With a triumphant shout, Scrooge yanked off a length of chain. Marley felt himself scrabbling for a steady hold, slipping not on ice, but rather in shock at what had transpired. "How did you... What are you doing, Scrooge? Stop!"  
  
"Don't worry about me, old friend." Scrooge affixed the chain, somehow grown thinner and finer in his hands, at the watch pocket of his ratty waistcoat. Once satisfied, he brushed off the dusty garment and while Marley stared in shock, the piece chain hanging over his left shoulder simply slid off and sank unseen into the snow.  
  
"There!" Scrooge pronounced with satisfaction. "As good as new. It's bothered me ever since I crossed over, not to have a watch and chain in place. This feels better already."  
  
Marley shook his head. "You have grown mad while I was away," he concluded, "for trying something like that. What if you had been weighed down further by my doom, burdened beyond what you could carry?"  
  
"Old friend, for what you taught me, I would carry far greater burdens than this little thing. And..." Scrooge hesitated. "I wish I could say I would, even before that, have shared your sorrows. Solely on the basis of our friendship. But I think we both know that this would have been painting me in too good a light."  
  
"Yes, well, if we're talking about those old days, I'd have probably called you a thief and robber if you'd tried to take anything off me. Even a rusty old chain."  
  
When Scrooge laughed at that, loudly and rudely like a child, Marley felt an unaccustomed pressure in his belly. He opened his mouth to ask Scrooge what he was thinking, surprised when his own laughter rang out instead. Scrooge saw his surprise and annoyance at the uncontrollable bout of laughter, growing in turn louder and even more silly. He pointed at Marley, made a face and then – gasping for air that he no longer needed – howled as gracelessly as a donkey. Marley almost wished to push him off the roof, realized they were both deceased, and proceeded to attempt exactly that.

Another scuffle followed. It involved snowballs and a surprising tumble two stories down.

  
"Where," Marley gasped a while later, when they were lying in a snow-heap on the street, Scrooge still giggling softly to himself, "where do you want us to go then, you soft-headed fool? I assume you have some plan, coming here and bothering me like this!"  
  
"I do indeed! It is an an excellent plan." Scrooge stood up and gave him a hand too. "I was run over, you see?"  
  
"Run over!"  
  
"Yes, by a very fancy coach," Scrooge continued, not in the least bothered. "Much nicer than anything I have ever bothered to spend money on."

"That says very little."

"Nevertheless, it was gleaming and gilded and whatnot. But driving dreadfully fast. I was helping the children build a snowman. Mostly in an advisory position, these days, but nevertheless assisting as much as I could. When suddenly, this fine coach swerved around the corner, thundering towards two of the boys. Though I got them out of the way, my own old bones were just a little too slow. " Scrooge smiled at him, a new and gentle cast to his features. "But I am happy with that trade. I could not have let it take the little ones."  
  
"No. I suppose you couldn't have. Still, I'm sorry to hear you went like that."  
  
"I'm not," Scrooge said, very firmly. "But I am sorry for the poor soul inside that coach. The driver tried to stop, you see, and I am not certain he will need any more assistance than the sobering sight of what his driving caused. But I heard, spoken clearly as a bell, even as I lay dying, how a voice ordered him to continue on."  
  
"Ah." Marley nodded. "Yes. That does seem like someone who needs a visit from you."  
  
"From us."  
  
"From us?"  
  
Scrooge nodded and held out his arm.  
  
"Well." Marley brushed himself off, in case any snow had dared cling to his spirit. He hooked his own arm into Scrooge's. "I suppose now is as good time as any, then."

 


End file.
